Drip, Drip, Drip
by AviFrogman
Summary: Batman finds himself trapped after a tunnel collapses. He's alone and in pain. Most people would panic. Instead, Bruce finds an opportunity to reflect on the choices he's made over the years - and the truth he accepted.


**Author's Note: **I've fashioned this Batman from different sources of inspiration, such as _The Dark Knight Returns, Batman: War on Crime, _and the _Justice League _/ _Justice League Unlimited _cartoons. I've always been a fan of the Batman and Wonder Woman pairing - their characters align more closely in my opinion that Superman and Wonder Woman - but right now I'm wondering if it really could work...

Please let me know if you agree with how feel Bruce would think, especially as he gets older and more cynical, and perhaps even more obsessed. This story takes place entirely in Batman's head, and I've tried to reflect that in the sentence structure and grammar you'll read below. It's all intentional, I promise.

I do not own Batman, Wonder Woman, or any of the characters mentioned here. DC, Warner Bros., please don't come after me.

* * *

_Drip…drip…drip…_

I woke up to darkness. And the sound of…_something_…dripping. Then I realized it was dripping on me. I couldn't actually feel it because my cowl was still in place, but I could hear it. Didn't smell like anything, but damn, it was annoying. No wonder it's considered a form of torture. Requires patience, though, which I don't have much of these days. Or time. There are faster methods to get the information you want. I will admit though, they're not as elegant. And definitely a lot messier than some water to clean up.

How did I get here? I searched my memory…I had gone down the tunnel, chasing after some perps, when I heard an explosion. Then a rumble. Then something large and hard slamming into me. Punks figured that this would do me in. Do they really think I'm that soft or old? I've been here before. I'll probably be here again, although I don't know how many lives I have left. Ha. Maybe I can borrow a few from Selina, if I ever see her again. Not that it's very likely – I pushed her away. I've pushed everyone away. And I do mean _everyone_. Dick, Tim, Alfred…even her. Not Selina, Not Talia – the other "her." The only one, really.

At the end, none of them understood me. Dick walked away disgusted; he couldn't believe I was still doing this. "Bruce, when is it enough? The world will never be perfect. Gotham will never be perfect. But things are _a lot_ _better_. You of all people deserve some peace and quiet. You've sacrificed the most. Enjoy some of the rewards!" I dismissed that argument immediately. I was fighting a war that I could never truly win. But that didn't mean I would quit. In that regard, I always liked and identified with the Norse myths – fighting the good fight against Ragnarok, even though they knew they were destined to lose. It just made them go down fighting harder and longer.

Dick didn't see it that way – he had given up being Nightwing and said he'll help Bludhaven as a district attorney. I thought that was a joke. The legal system is part of the reason (a big part) that everything is so screwed up.

Tim was hurt when I forbade him from coming with me on patrol again. He never forgave me for taking the Robin mantle away from him, but it was for his own good – he was nicer, softer than the rest of us, and would have gotten hurt.

Or worse – he could have ended up like Jason.

_Drip…drip…drip…_

It hurt more when Alfred walked out. He was getting on in years and couldn't stomach what I was doing anymore. He wanted to enjoy the little time he had left, and not worry about his "ward" as he always called me. He's one of the regrets I have. Sure, I took good care of him, set him and Leslie up in a nice place with a hefty trust, but that's just money. How do I pay him back for taking care of me all those years? He became more of a father than a butler, a man I looked up to more than anyone else.

As for my real father and mother, in my darkest moments, I know and realize that I've _idealized_ them. I've forgotten all the arguments they had, and only see the bright shining halos around their heads. If I didn't hold on to that image, I'd go as insane as the inmates I lock up in Arkham each and every night. I _need_ to lie to myself about them to keep going.

Lying? I'll get to that in a bit.

_Drip…drip…drip…_

The Justice League? I haven't seen or spoken to any of them in years. As soon as I pushed away the Boy Scout, the rest followed suit. What else would you expect? He was always the public face. I was behind the scenes, the brains, and he was the brawn.

The press called us "The World's Finest Team." Team? I always scoffed when I heard that. I could never stand to be around his hope and innocence for too long. Sure, we worked well together, but that was it. Always professional, never personal. I couldn't relate to his salt of the earth, humble "aw shucks, gee whiz" personality. I mean, let's face it – money in America is aristocracy, and who has more money than the Wayne family? I'm a damn(ed) prince, and he's a farmer's son. We couldn't be more different even if he wasn't Kryptonian.

I know, he could swat me into outer space with one shot, but who'll pay for the Watchtower after I slam into it? Ollie? I like him, but he was always a poor man's Batman. If he weren't a billionaire, I don't know if he'd even make it in the League. I can't knock his taste in women, though.

Besides, I've got protocols to take Clark (and all the others) down if I even think they're looking at me wrong. And he knows it. That's why, to this day, he's scared to come into my city. I always get a chuckle out of that when I see him on TV, flying around and wearing the damn flag. He's everywhere, saving kittens and picking up islands, but he never enters my airspace.

Green Lantern? Too militaristic for me, and much too power for an ordinary man. Seriously, a galaxy-spanning Corps of these super-powered _soldiers?_ All we need is for one of them to turn fascist. All it took was a few choice words along those lines to make him doubt himself. He's off saving another part of the galaxy. And he took Shayera with him. I always respected her for being a detective. I never could forgive her for betraying us like that, or myself, since I was caught as flat-footed as everyone else. I'm glad she's gone too.

Wally? I hate to admit it, but I actually miss the little punk. Sure, he called me "Bats" which earned him a glare, but he always helped to lighten the mood. Or at least be a target while I did what I needed to from the shadows. What's he thinking, running around in bright red and yellow? He's not bulletproof. Kid's going to get shot one of these days when he stops to eat. I even offered to make him a Kevlar-reinforced suit. He looked at me and said, "Bats, that'll cramp my style with the chicks." That time that he entered the Speed Force and took down Luthor…I think it changed him. Over time he got more distant, more agitated, and now…he can't stop _moving_. He's done good work in his city, though – his obsession is almost as bad as mine.

J'onn – I don't think of him too much. That's a conscious decision. He rejoined the League and we worked together on a couple of cases, but after Volcana took him down…there wasn't much left to bury. Everyone has their weaknesses, and for Martians it's fire. I had that in my protocols, but I'm glad I never had to employ it. Hearing a dying Martian's psychic scream gave me nightmares for months, replacing the regular ones about my parents. Who would have thought I'd _want_ those nightmares back?

Who else is left? Just the one who never feared me…she's the one I think of the most. Diana. Wonder Woman. Champion of Themyscira, Madame Ambassador of the Amazons…she has more titles than I do. To me, though, she was always "Princess."

_Drip…drip…drip…_

Yes, I pushed her away. _That_ was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. The years of strenuous training – both mental and physical – were nothing compared to this. Seeing my sons leave me, watching my surrogate father walk out on me – nothing compared to this. I didn't even miss patrol on those nights.

But with Diana…the Princess…things were different. I didn't push her away until last.

Now, most people would think I left her for last because I loved her. I'm not so sentimental. I admit, I cared for her, I even loved her. I still do. No, I pushed her away for a simple reason; the truth.

People forget that she's the Spirit of Truth. Not hope and innocence like Clark – no, she's about _truth._ And truth is the last thing to go when you push everything else away. You can leave your belongings, burn your house, and dump your friends and family, but the last thing from which you can turn away is the truth. That's why she was the last to go – but go she did. Because she represented the truth, and it was one I couldn't accept.

She made the mistake of using her lasso on me, and showing me the truth. And it was a bleak one, for me – a world where I no longer needed to do this, night after night; no longer needed to seek penance for a wrong I never committed. I saw it, felt the lasso burning me as I was forced to admit it, and it forever destroyed my ability to accept Diana as part of my life. _She was taking away the very thing that made me who I am._

After so many years of being Batman, how could I accept the truth that he really was no longer needed? _I_ needed to be him. I needed to be Batman, because if I'm not the World's Greatest Detective, what am I? I can't be "Bruce Wayne." He's a buffoon, a mask I wear. Yes, I could do a lot of good if I was Bruce full time. But would I have the same satisfaction? I doubt it. After years of pounding criminals and thwarting the insane plots of clowns and psychos, it'd be hard to adjust to only writing checks.

Sure, she would be there with me – at least at first. Most men (and a lot of women) dream of domestic bliss with Wonder Woman. Seriously though, can anyone see her settling into the Suzy Homemaker role? As she said the first time we met, she's a warrior born. She needs to do battle, and sparring or playing chess with me only satisfies the bloodlust for so long. I would have driven her insane.

No, it's better this way. She's stepped away from her diplomatic duties and royal obligations, and she's off-world most of the time on League missions. After all these years, her message of peace is finally getting through. Earth is better off now – relatively, at least. She once smiled serenely and said that there were many others to take up the war, but we can rest easy knowing we fought and won the major battles. But she keeps fighting the good fight elsewhere. She needs to do this as much as I do, otherwise she would have gone home to paradise.

We don't see each other; we don't talk; like I said, it's better this way.

But the truth is, I think about her every day. Not all day, or anything exaggerated like that; but I do think about her. And I feel the ring of fire around my body again, as the lasso burns me again and again. That was her parting gift to me – she left me her lasso in the hopes that I would come to accept the truth, and then move on together with her. Every day, I put it on, I burn, and then remove it and continue on my mission. Because without the mission, I'm nothing.

_Drip…drip…drip…_

So that's why I'm alone, in the dark, hurting and getting wetter every second from the damn drip, drip, drip of the water pipe that's leaking after the explosion. I need to start working on getting out of here and apprehend those punks, but sometimes, it's nice to just sit and breathe and reflect on where I am. And how I got here.

Most people would panic in this situation; to me, this is when I get to…relax.

And even though it hurts not to have her, I'll still get _some_ pleasure out of scaring the hell out of the punks who led me down there. Showing up at their home, having them wake up to the white lenses in my cowl and the harsh growl of my voice- there is satisfaction in watching the little punks cower and gag as they try to scream for help. Because they know it isn't coming.

That's _my_ truth. And I'm fine with that.


End file.
